DANCING WITH THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN

DANCING WITH THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN

was heading due west
when the wheel
started to splinter, come
away in my hand

seemed like a vortex out there
demonic triangle
         portal pulling me in
ghost ships
     flying dutchmen following
me into
   that gorgeous abyss
(sphere of the zombie, land
of the dead)

where, to be fair, I would find
locale most congenial
to consort
   with Frankenstein’s creature’s
bride

the two of us in true tango,
monstering out first midnight together

drone
of supreme dissonance
about to
   switch off my brain

and yet how
we spin
    across the floor
illusion of
free movement
delusion of light speed

whilst
    eyes still locked inward
split, almost dismembered
the limbs
  scrabbling for somewhere
treading
     ice water dragged across
the spectrum, shuttled forward
back like
      a ball in ping pong between
what we are told
are complete hyperbolic poles

and now for
our videofest, hook up
for the podcast

think up
some catastrophic leveling
skimming like a
cruise missile, like
an angel of abomination
targeting
    all hearts if
we have them

as I repent all
my falsehoods, so
shamefully having lied to you
              to preserve my power
keep
my inverted commas innocence

not a deus ex machina
but brutal blade of a guillotine
falls and released
                           it is
just
the end of the poem

UP TO SCRATCH

UP TO SCRATCH

when I arrived in Hell
was stunned to find
the place empty
the only
evil soul there

so to kill a bit of eternity
the devils and I played pool
sank some beers
    discussed the state
of the world
and humanity
from a left-wing perspective

marking time for the torturers
to ready their equipment
         the inquisitors in
Hell’s hierarchy
to stoke their fabled fires

get my suffering
up to scratch

OR SO YOU BELIEVE


OR SO YOU BELIEVE

déshabillé
(or so you believe)

whereas I would say
too much is divulged
subtext is showing

paradigm so exposed
to the ruination of your reputation

need a cover up
    heads to
spin

though my own stock-
in-trade be
scarcely golden

seems like you may just
have rushed too pre-
cipitously into
some bad
media alchemy

and now
    are looking high and low
under every bombed structure
for each
   and every collateral

making such a racket to
deflect our eyes
       from the hypocrisy

the place
reduced to a desert
carnage
      beyond words

sad that what might have
served poetry
   bent out of shape to
sustain
   the war industry

defend
     death’s exceptionally

make the case for a rapture
thing so sickly sweet

will
   annihilate the need for
theology
        morality, humanity

basic kindness and love
the species professed to hold dear

NICE

NICE

better buckle up
sent down

a torrent of sarcasm
if rain can
be acid

the satire here
was molten invective

everyone expecting manna
sugar candy mountain
Wonka factory nice

but what
was happening in that dark
snuff film tunnel?

arms  better be
            sheathed because
if at
  all upraised in

diabolical salute
so vicious
    this tirade seem

bound
to get burnt off

VILLAGE TALK

VILLAGE TALK

It came as some surprise I can tell you, when I found out I had won
a nuclear ballistic missile, as well as well as a single-person euthanasia machine.

The government wished to prevent me from taking delivery of the missile,  which included its multiple warheads,targeting system and storage system, since they are signatories to the United Nations’ Treaty of nuclear non-prolifération. They also frowned upon the delivery of the euthanasia machine, since the right to euthanasia is not approved of legally.

Nevertheless, there was much excitement in the small village where I live, when the competition’s sponsors, together with nuclear armaments manufacturer delivered and installed the missile. Less interest was shown with regard to the delivery of the euthanasia machine, which is understandable.

Soon neighbours and people across the village were telling me which country or population group it might be good to ‘take out”. Similarly there was no lack of suggestions as to who we might wish to euthanize or try to persuade that euthanasia was on their vital interest or simply their best option.

My humble opinion, being a very spiritual person, is that we should only offer euthanasia to those who are terminally sick, in constant pain and beyond cure. It does not provide a suitable answer to clinical depression even in a world as divided, fragmented, greedy, selfish and cruel as our own.

As for the missile, let us put to one side the fact that the village becoming a nuclear power and thus a global “player” politically raised questions of deterrence policy, alliances, early warning systems and protocols leading to the decision to launch. The standing joke was at every soccer game to check the ball before kickoff just to make sure it’s not the village nuclear football itself.

As for opportunities for “first fire”, the problem here is that in today’s world different nationalities, ethnic and cultural groups are much intermixed and thus cannot be said to present a “clean” target. Especially since the missile’s thunderous explosive power stands at a hundred megatons for each of its seven warheads. Such a bang is bound to devastate and irradiates a pretty huge target area, eradicating victims by the hundreds of thousands pretty indiscriminately.

That is why I came to the sad realisation I had to decline from using it on personal enemies to defend my own integrity and to take massive revenge for all that they have done to me. It saddens me to think that if actual nuclear war should break out they will be taking shelter in deep blast-proof bunkers inside some hollowed-out mountain. Sitting the whole thing out, the Earth and the future, as always, belonging to them.

As for the euthanasia machine, after careful consideration I have decided, and trust you will understand and forgive me, to reserve it for personal use. I do not think I have the right to decide who should live and who should die except when it comes to me myself.